"i'm fine."
The words fall out almost on instinct now, no matter how hard they have to fight to work past his vocal cords, past his swollen throat, through his exhausted tongue, outside into the world where they have to twist upwards to avoid suspicion. But despite his efforts, that veil won't work.
"i'm fine."
Her vivid blue eyes are sharp when he says the words. Her hand goes up to the necklace resting on her collarbone, and he knows that she can hear it. No matter how hard he twists, she can unravel the words' true meaning. She's the best person at untangling knots that he knows.
"i'm fine."
He insists, despite her pressing. She knows it's a lie, her bracelet tightens around her neck the way it does to him. But he won't explain, even when she pulls out her little hologram. If he stays silent, she has no strings, no knots to untie. It frustrates her. He knows that, but a real friend wouldn't press him. He's not ready. A real friend would smile and say the twisted lies that he's grown to be addicted to.
"you're fine!"
What's the point of coming anymore? He forgot a long time ago. It never helped, really. But it would be an insult, a disgrace, to forget. He forces himself to remember, even if it's not necessary. Those words ring in his head every day. He will never forget, and perhaps that is his punishment, for allowing the one person he trusted to get away from him.
"everything is fine."
Trust…the words spill out from his mouth and the wind stays silent. The gravestone is cold beneath him. What's trust, he asks, what did my teachers tell me? When did I learn what trust meant? Where did I reach that definition? I wish I could remember because I've forgotten, and you're not here to tell me.
"my name is apollo justice"
It's been years, but his heart still rings with pain. He unwound those bandages, ripped off that coat, a million seconds ago but yet the wounds still burn. Why isn't he over it? Why does the blue marker on that little hologram ring with every word he says? He asks and asks but the marble stays quiet, the wind ignoring him.
"and i'm fine."
The answer reaches him slowly. He doesn't want to believe it at first because it's so, so late, it's too late now. He's a fool, he realizes, for being so slow. He's a lawyer, he seeks the truth for a living, but yet he was too exhausted to move. Or maybe, he wonders out loud, I knew all along. Maybe I knew it from the instant I saw your puffy hair and your grin that puts the sun to shame and your dreams, your dreams that your skull could barely hold within…
and again the water rushes nearby, answering him in a language long dead.
"my name is apollo justice"
He thinks about it for a while and the longer he thinks the surer he becomes. It explains things, the overwhelming desire to visit, no matter how abandoned the house was. The crushing agony that filled his mind, spilled through his veins, hotter and more explosive than magma, more painful than his wounds.
"and i am in love."
He visits the grave and confesses even though it's so late. He tells his reasons, explains himself, tears fall down his eyes as he apologizes for not being on time, for falling off the clock, and he asks for forgiveness because i love you and I don't want to lose you.
But it's silent. The marble reflects his tear-streaked face but does nothing else, offers no explanation.
Because it truly is too late. Clay Terran was dead a long time ago and has been ever since.